Blend the Addiction
by HPMyn
Summary: Gambling isn't a game when people are involved... Need a good pokerface? Don't we all? Quidditch, Sex, Slash, Violence and more.


Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters associated are not the property of this author and this author does not mean to infringe upon any copyright laws, please forgive her.

Warning: Heavy slash 

Dedicated to J they'll never know about this fic but they are *so* adorable together and totally want each other... I hope you guys will someday admit it and find happiness and forget about that ugly word "fag".

A/N: In my ideal fantasy world anyone can love anyone without fearing for their lives. As the HP universe is pretty close to perfection already, please read this fic with the assumption that wizards are above the petty prejudices of our more flawed "modern" world. Also, this story is not a priority, it will updated when I feel like writing it. It should be pretty lengthly and I know the plotline (a plus). So enjoy.

Harry Potter rode the tide of his excited teammates off the field and into the locker room. Each member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team was yelling and screaming, and each face was a picture of triumph. The noise was enormous; even so, he could still hear the ceaseless roar of the crowd outside. He rubbed his temples, trying to ward off the headache he knew was coming, but he couldn't keep the grin off his face. Victory had been sweet, as was obvious by the slaps on his back. He tonight there would be no rest-- it would be a constant orgy of music, sound, celebration, and Seamus trying to bed him. Harry silently vowed, in the midst of the turmoil, that he absolutely would not do it. Again.

It took 20 minutes for the team to quiet down to hearing level. Their faces were still flushed with glory and the wind, and Harry had that wonderful tautness to his movements that felt like electricity flowing through his veins but was really just leftover adrenaline. The team gradually drifted towards the exit, eagerly awaiting the night's festivities. Ron Weasley, one of the team's Beaters, turned back to his friend.

"Going to shower then, Harry?" It was well known and well respected that the captain liked to have a little time to himself after games.

Harry nodded. "Yes, I definitely need it," he remarked, light dancing in his feverishly bright green eyes.

"See you later, then," Ron waved, then paused sheepishly, "Oh, don't be worried if you can't find me later, I'm probably in-"

"Hermione's room, yes I know," Harry said with a wry grin. Ron blushed, his mouth quirking up in a half-smile.

"Guess I've become predictable, then," he said mournfully.

Harry sighed soulfully. "Looks that way, mate," They both laughed, and then Ron left his captain and best friend in peace.

It was very quiet after the cacophony and Harry let himself close his eyes for a brief moment before moving towards the showers. He turned the knob to "Scathing" and undressed while the steam billowed throughout the deserted locker room, turning it into a fogged alien terrain. Setting his glasses carefully atop his pile of clothing, Harry stepped into the showers and exhaled in bliss. He rolled his shoulders, luxuriating in the heat as his muscles slowly unclenched. 

So he was completely surprised when, of seemingly its own accord, the water shut off. "Wha-" Harry sputtered, looking around in surprise. Shrugging, he turned the water on again and tilted his head back to rinse his hair, but was rewarded with only a few drips as _again_ the water stopped. His brow furrowed suspiciously as he peered out into the room. Someone had to be playing a prank on him. His frown deepened. He didn't ask for much, only a shower to himself now and then, so who was-

A slim figure slid with a dancer's grace into Harry's line of vision, close enough for him to know-

"Malfoy," he growled, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist. "Get out of here." Draco Malfoy tilted his head slightly.

"I came to congratulate you, Potter, but then again you must be sick of that," he drawled, watching Harry with sharp gray eyes.

The Gryffindor was in no mood to be trifled with; he wanted to finish his shower. "Fuck. Off."

Malfoy smirked imperiously. "Not yet..." and then knocked Harry back into the shower. Harry slipped on the wet tile and landed painfully on his rear. Malfoy loomed over him. Usually so pale and poised, Malfoy seemed to lose control. 

"Listen, Potter," he snarled, "Let's be certain of one thing. There are no more games between us, it's been moved up a notch." His lips twisted up into a cruel smile. "If you think Quidditch matches still matter, then I'd watch where you sleep," His eyes flicked over Harry's body very quickly, so fast that Harry almost didn't catch it. "Or," he added contemptuously, "with _who_ you sleep." And then he had vanished into the mist, like a wraith into the night.

Harry sat shivering on the shower floor, and his first thought was "What the fuck was that about?" and his second was, "I do not sleep around!" Sure, there was Seamus and occasionally Hannah Abbot, but he wasn't a slut! The drain grid was starting to dig into his backside, so he gingerly stood up and grimaced. That bastard; his shower was completely ruined. Sighing resignedly, he shuffled into clean robes and started for the castle.

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They tumbled back onto the mattress, the door shutting behind them with a loud bang. Frantic kisses were exchanged as troublesome articles of clothing found spontaneous residence all over the floor. Sound pulsed from downstairs, shocking through their bodies in a pressing rhythm. Skin on skin contact was achieved and produced inarticulate moans. The party was in full swing and Seamus Finnigan had once again gotten him in bed.

They calmed down a bit, leisurely mapping each other's (by now well-known) bodies. Seamus' breath ghosted across his face and their lips met in a soft kiss. They parted slowly and Harry looked down and his would-be lover and shook his head ruefully.

"How the hell do you do it, Seamus? Every time I tell myself it won't happen again, and yet here I am about to fuck you senseless."

"I love it when you talk that way," he said cheekily, Irish brogue thickening with lust.

"Ah, now I remember," Harry shivered as excitement of the night danced through him, "It's the damned accent of yours that makes me so hot for you."

"All part of the seduction process," Seamus remarked, batting his eyelashes demurely.

"Oh, so you're seducing me then?"

Seamus nodded. "Aye. It's always been a goal of mine." 

"Mmm..." Harry mumbled incoherently, kissing along the compact body. Soon Seamus was moaning too, and words were no longer needed between them.

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Harry fingered locks of blonde hair absently. Seamus purred, resting his head on Harry's chest as the Quidditch Captain pondered his relationship with his Irish friend. Were they more than friends? Lovers, yes, and Harry did care about him, and the sex was great, but it was for _this_, this snuggling that Harry kept letting Seamus entice him to the bedroom. It wasn't healthy for either of them and Harry knew it wouldn't last but that didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy what he had. He forced that out of his mind and instead turned his thoughts to his strange encounter with Malfoy that afternoon. Harry wasn't stupid, he knew a warning when he heard one. What he couldn't fathom was why Malfoy had bothered. Was it possible that the Slytherin wanted a challenge? That quidditch wasn't the biggest match between them anymore? Malfoy was toying with him, and he wanted Harry to know it. _This is a game to him._ Harry fervently wished he knew the rules.

To be continued


End file.
